One Last Adventure

Summary: Newlyweds Elizabeth and James return to England for their honeymoon and to visit his family's estate. Somewhere along the way, Elizabeth comes to realize that Commodore Norrington just might possess the key to her heart after all… Norribeth.

Rating: M/Explicit

Words: 7800


One last adventure.

That was the only request Elizabeth made of James, in regards to their nuptials. The Commodore bit down on the bitter hurt that she did not think their lives together would contain any excitement in of themselves, and set about making her wish so. When he proposed that they travel to England to see his family at their country estate, she did not seem overly excited, though neither was she opposed.

She had hoped for something a bit more exotic, no doubt, but after their recent brush with pirates James could not bring himself to put his new bride in unnecessary danger, no matter how she inexplicably seemed to long for it. The crossing of the Atlantic could be treacherous enough as it was.

They were married with all the expected fanfare of the union of a Governor's daughter and a high ranking officer in the King's Navy. She bore the day cheerfully enough, though at times there was a distant look in her eye, and with a pang James couldn't help but wonder if she thought of Will Turner, and wished he, not James, was at her side. Yet then she would come out of it and smile up at him with what seemed to be genuine warmth, and his heart would swell nearly to bursting once more.

He loved Elizabeth, but he did not yet completely understand her.

In time, he hoped that would remedy.

At the end of the day, all the festivities put to rest, James brought his new bride home. He carried her up the stairs with a strength that seemed to surprise her, and for the first time allowed himself to kiss her with abandon outside her bedroom door. It left her flushed, bright eyed, and utterly waylaid by his unexpected passion.

"Wait," she'd begged, and because he loved her, he did.

James slept alone for the better duration of that night, though at some point in the early morning Elizabeth slipped beneath the sheets with him, curling into the shelter of his arms. When he woke he was surprised to find her there beside him, though certainly not displeased. When she looked up at him with those wide doe eyes full of question, he kissed her gently, putting her fears to rest.

"I will wait as long as you need," he assured her, and gratefully she kissed him again, the tip of her pink tongue grazing his.

Curious, was his Elizabeth, but also cautious.

Perhaps it was unfair to fling young women into the thick of matrimony all at once, James mused. To be taken from everything she once knew in girlhood, and to suddenly expect her to become a woman, seemed cruel. Most men would laugh at his indulgence of her, he knew, and yet her happiness meant so much more to him than custom or the slaking of his own lust.

In time, he reasoned, she would come to him, and their marriage would be all the stronger for it. That did not stop him from wanting, though, and sometimes he wondered if his imp of a wife had some idea of the way she sweetly tortured him.

The smallest things had the power to call his desire of her. The tilt of her fine head, or the curl of her full lips. A simple thing like tying off the laces of her dress on mornings shared in their small cabin, because she had left her lady's maid behind in Port Royal for their long voyage to England. One morning, he even woke to her exploring hand inquiring about his most sensitive area, somehow simultaneously bold as a lady of the profession and timid as the maiden she still was.

Undoubtedly she herself had been stirred from sleep and curious of what was poking at her backside, as both of James' arms were wrapped snugly around her. When she must have realized what particular appendage she held in hand, boldly Elizabeth ran her palm from tip to base, taking the measure of James' manhood. Only by every ounce of his hard won self-control, as well as probably a miracle, did James hold himself still. He knew should he betray his wakefulness Elizabeth would be mortified and scared off for God knew how much longer.

When he felt certain he could bear her touch no more without reciprocating in some degree she retreated with a gasp as though she'd been burnt, and huddled down to feign sleep once more, though she rather deliberately tucked her taut little bottom closer against him.

James' heart beat to quarters in his chest.

She was trying to kill him.

How willingly he would offer her his throat for the slaughter.

Sharing a cabin at sea was the surest way to get to know someone well, for better or for worse. James rose early out of habit, and one morning while shaving he felt eyes upon him. He turned to find Elizabeth among the disarrayed sheets of their berth, looking deliciously sleep rumpled, that mane of golden hair tousled about her. She was biting her lower lip a little as she regarded him in breeches and no shirt, a towel upon his shoulder. "You're beautiful," she said, before any polite pleasantries of good morning and how did you sleep could pass.

Quite dumbfounded, James stood with half a face lathered in soap and a razor in hand, uncertain how to respond. He was tall and fit, both of which seemed to agree with the fairer sex, but by his reckoning he was far too covered in scars from his long years of naval service to be considered beautiful.

Finally he managed, "You are kind, my dear wife, but I know that life at sea has left its mark upon me."

She pursed her lips, eyes roaming his torso for the evidences of his adventures and mishaps. The light in her eyes did not fade, as he feared it might.

"Why don't you come back to bed and tell me about them?"

James felt his mouth go dry with sudden excitement, even as he reminded himself she did not understand how a man might usually take such an invitation when uttered in such a silken purr.

With a trembling hand he finished shaving, somehow managed not to cut his own throat, and slipped back into the warm covers with his bride. His obedience was rewarded with a kiss for every scar upon his torso after he revealed the story of it. Pirate cutlasses, French boarding axes, and Spanish pikes. By the time Elizabeth dozed in his arms once more James was hard as a belaying pin, and twice as much in love with Elizabeth Norrington as he had been when the day began.

She was trying to kill him, no doubt, but what a way to go.